The Diminished. Kaitlyn Sage Patterson
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people hurtling across oceans, and while I knew the history—I’d been captivated by sunships when I was a child—the engineering details eluded me. Queen Runa would undoubtedly pepper me with questions throughout the day tomorrow as I observed her dealing with the monthly petitions from the people of Alskad, and there was little chance that I’d absorbed enough to hold my own under her sharp scrutiny.
There wasn’t enough kaffe in the world to keep me awake through another chapter about the evolution of Alskad’s shipbuilding technology, and I had to be up distressingly early, but there was a restless thread tugging at my mind. It was always like this on nights I spent in Penby, like the buzz of the city’s energy pulsed through my veins, too, amplifying my emotions and keeping sleep just outside my grasp.
I paused outside my door, listening for my valet, Gunnar, and his telltale wheezing snore. In a few short weeks, I’d move from the comfortable, out-of-the-way guest rooms that had been mine since I was a child to a luxurious suite in the royal wing. I’d have to relearn all the creaking floorboards and fiddly sunlamps, and while my new rooms would be closely guarded, the rooms I occupied now were so far off the beaten path that no one bothered to visit, a small boon I would deeply miss when my duties forced me to become even more social. I took a deep breath, bracing myself, and opened the door.
Gunnar sprang to his feet and, after rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, gave me an admonishing look.
“Lady Myrella’s been looking for you,” he said. “She’s stopped in three times since dinner. I didn’t know what to tell her, as you neglected to inform me of your plans for the evening.”
I set the stack of books on the small writing desk in the corner, fished the notebook out of my pocket and added it to the pile.
“You didn’t need to wait up, Gunnar. I’m sorry I put you out. I was in the library, studying.”
Gunnar huffed. “You could have at least let me know where you’d be. I cannot be expected to adequately perform my duties if you refuse to tell me when to expect you and where you plan to spend your time. Your tea’s gone cold, and I haven’t the faintest clue what to lay out for you to wear tomorrow. What does one wear when speaking to the poor?”
I bit back a grin. Aside from cataloging the ways in which I’d wronged him over the course of any given day, Gunnar loved nothing more than reveling in his own snobbery.
“Clothes, I expect,” I replied, pouring myself a cup of rich herbal tisane from the pot keeping warm on a trivet next to the hearth, despite Gunnar’s hyperbolic warning. “It’s still a bit cold for me to go gallivanting off to the throne room to greet my future subjects in my underthings.”
Gunnar’s jaw tightened, and he gave a stiff bow. His manners tended to become polite to the point of absurdity when he was irritated with me. Somehow, he managed to present a picture of perfect deference and simultaneously touch upon my every nerve. Even though I knew he would probably lay out something completely absurd—like a lavender silk suit—the next morning, I was altogether too drained to worry about the consequences of my sarcasm. Gunnar always paid me back in his own way, but I didn’t have to worry about his feelings being too badly hurt in the long run. The man had practically raised me, and he, more than anyone, knew how difficult it was for me to endure these endless days at court surrounded by people who only ever approached what they wanted to say from the side.
* * *
Thanks to my sharp tongue and Gunnar’s long memory, the maid woke me with just half an hour’s grace before I was to meet the Queen. The clothes Gunnar had laid out for me were some of the most ostentatious and garish in my wardrobe, and he was nowhere to be found. Through the servant’s sputtered protests, I stuck my whole head in a basin of freezing cold water left from the night before, scrubbed at my face and dried off with my shirttails as I stalked to the closet to find something else to wear.
Over my shoulder, I called, “I would be eternally grateful to you if you could manage to find me a cup of kaffe sometime in the next ten minutes.”
When the young man didn’t respond, I stuck my head out of the closet, a pair of socks clenched between my teeth, to see if he’d heard me. There, lounging on the settee at the end of my bed, was my cousin Claes, with two enormous, steaming mugs in his hands and a grin lighting his gorgeous face. He, apparently, hadn’t infuriated his butler, and was turned out in perfectly fitted navy trousers and a fine ivory sweater. The smattering of freckles across his high cheekbones stood out against his fawn skin more than usual, and there was a playful light in his angular black eyes.
“Good morning, dearest,” he said, and crossed the room to hand me a mug and plant a kiss on my cheek.
I took a grateful sip, all the bitterness of the kaffe disguised by honey and cream. Claes knew me so well.
“Thank you. I’m afraid I may have annoyed Gunnar last night. All he’s left me is that hideous mauve monstrosity, and I have to be in the throne room in twenty minutes. Do you think these will do?”
Claes looked down at the clothes I’d plucked out of the wardrobe, and his perfectly groomed black eyebrows climbed his forehead. He swept the clothes out of my arms and brushed past me into the closet.
“I swear, Bo, it’s as if you’ve never dressed yourself. Do you pay absolutely no attention to what’s fashionable?”
Ten minutes later, I was respectably garbed in a pair of gray trousers, a pale orange sweater knitted from soft Denorian wool and a long charcoal jacket. I stuffed a cloud bun filled with smoked bacon and caramelized onions into my mouth as I rushed through the palace halls to the throne room. I arrived with only a moment to spare and ran a hand experimentally through my riot of dark brown curls. I had no doubt that I looked a disaster, but there was nothing to be done about it now.
“Am I a total embarrassment?”
Claes smiled and drew me close in a warm embrace. “You’re as princely as they come, my dear. Now go impress old Queenie with your vast intellect. I’m off to gather gossip from the maids. I hear that Lisette has taken a new lover, and I plan to learn who it is before your birthday invitations are sent.”
Claes leaned in and kissed me, and I did my best to ignore the guards by the throne room door, who were covering their chuckling with coughs and exaggerated shifting of their weapons. It wasn’t as though my relationship with Claes was a secret, but his public displays of affection drew more attention to us than I liked. Claes pulled away first, his implacable grin already in place as he winked at a guard over my shoulder.
“I’ll see you tonight?” I asked.
“Of course. We’ve got to finalize the guest list, and I do believe that my dear sister has a whole collection of people she’s planning to chastise and flatter with this event alone.”
I sighed. It didn’t matter that I’d been preparing myself to take the throne for most of my life: I would never get used to the social machinations and deceptions required by a life at court. They simply didn’t come as naturally to me as they did to the other singleborn. Even my cousins, Penelope and Claes, had adapted much more easily to court intrigue than I ever had.
Claes brushed a bit of invisible dust off my shoulder.
“You worry about running the empire, my dear. Penelope and I’ll be the ones to get our hands dirty controlling the nobility. Now scoot. You’re going to be late.”
Claes planted a final kiss on my cheek and nodded to the guards. When they opened the door, I was as ready as I could be.
Like the Queen, I entered the throne room not through the wide doors that the petitioners would use throughout the day, but via a small side door in the back. The Alskad throne loomed large on the dais. According to legend, it had been hewn from the upturned roots of an enormous tree, and the tangle of roots that fanned out over the head of the monarch reflected the Alskad crown they wore. The whole thing had been polished and waxed and varnished so often over the years, the wood had turned a glowing deep brown, almost black.
I rounded the dais and saw that the Queen was